


Mirror, Mirror

by tonepoem



Category: Machineries of Empire Series - Yoon Ha Lee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brainwashing, Horror, Incest, Istradez lives, M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, Nirai Kujen is the warning, Not that this does Istradez any good, Self-cest, Transformation, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 21:26:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12920574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonepoem/pseuds/tonepoem
Summary: Shuos Mikodez makes the mistake of sending Istradez into Kujen's hands.  Kujen has...plans.





	Mirror, Mirror

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karanguni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karanguni/gifts).



> Thank you for everything, coadie!

## 1

Istradez was roused out of a sound slumber by the alert. "Turn it off, Miki," he said as Mikodez unpillowed his head from Istradez's shoulder, sat up, and reached for his clothes. Admittedly Istradez's entire arm had fallen asleep, but he was used to that.

"Sorry," Mikodez said as he pulled his pants on. "It may not be a crashing emergency, but I'm pretty sure that's the head of the stealth fleet asking for instructions." He must have gotten that information via augment, because it sure wasn't available to Istradez. Not that it mattered, since Mikodez had just _told_ him.

"Wouldn't kill her to wait five minutes while I _really_ wake you up," Istradez said, reaching out with his toe and tracing Mikodez's thigh.

Mikodez reached down and pushed Istradez's toe away. "Sorry, brother dearest," he said, his tone professionally gentle, in what Istradez thought of as the "Introduction to Seduction: letting down your lover easy" voice. "Another time."

Istradez flopped back onto the bed and watched, fuming, as Mikodez dressed in record time, then padded out of the room. It was Istradez's room, not Mikodez's. Even on the occasions that Istradez could convince his brother to have sex, it was always in Istradez's room.

Given that fact, he'd done his best to make this room appealing to his brother. All the wallpaper was a soothing pastel shade of green, Mikodez's favorite color. The ricepaper screens were also pastel green, with inkblot paintings of frogs and grasshoppers. He made sure that he only played those absurdly danceable tunes that Mikodez liked, although dancing was one of the few hobbies that Mikodez had not (yet) taken up. In particular, Istradez had a special arrangement with the best pastry chef in the Citadel of Eyes, mostly involving blisteringly vanilla sex, which meant that he always had a tempting platter of delectable treats to appeal to Mikodez's sweet tooth.

Yet none of that made a difference. The fact of the matter was that Mikodez might hold Istradez in as much affection as Mikodez held anything, but he was never going to look at Istradez with anything resembling lust. Istradez kept telling himself that that was all right, that the work he did as Mikodez's double brought them to an exacting closeness that even most lovers never enjoyed. But he knew, especially at times like this, that he was lying to himself. Mikodez was giving everything that he was capable of giving, and it still wasn't enough for Istradez, whose idea of an appropriate amount of sex was "once a day if possible, twice if not." And considering that the Shuos always existed in one state of emergency or another, and Mikodez could more properly be said to be married to his job, it was increasingly difficult for Istradez to beg even scraps of carnal attention from him.

Istradez sighed, then kicked off the blankets, which didn't deserve the level of viciousness he was putting into the effort, and walked naked into the bathroom and turned on the lights. There he contemplated his reflection in the mirror. He'd gotten used to his brother's face; couldn't even remember what his old one had looked like, although he took out holos sometimes to remind himself. Larger eyes in a rounder face, curves. And even then, back when he'd been a woman, he'd still sometimes been able to fool people who didn't know them well, especially if he was dressed in loose clothing, so long as he didn't have to open his mouth and _talk_.

Right now his black hair was tousled, his eyes bleary with interrupted sleep, and there were what he thought of as dutiful bite marks on his shoulder, although the darkness of his skin made it difficult to see the bruises. As usual when he studied his reflection for any length of time--the handsome face with its flawless planes and dark eyes, the strong, slender limbs--his cock began to rouse. It wasn't long before he was at full mast.

Istradez was tempted to jerk himself off. After all, _he_ wasn't the one who had the urgent meeting with a shadowmoth commander. A quick consultation with his augment assured him that _he_ didn't have anywhere to be in the middle of the night.

But it wouldn't make him feel any better about himself, or about his relationship with Mikodez, and so he held off. Instead, he looked down at his erection, sighed again, then stumped back to bed. It was a long time before he was able to return to sleep.

## 2

Istradez didn't see his brother again for the next three days, what with one emergency and another. Everything from the aforementioned shadowmoth crisis, about which even Istradez couldn't wheedle details from the staff, to an attack on the Citadel stopped by some of the outer perimeter booby traps, to the most typical of all, Mikodez's assistant Zehun hunting for the latest escaped cat. Istradez liked cats more than Mikodez did, so he refrained from suggesting to Zehun that they entrust the task to a servitor. Zehun took their cats _very seriously_.

When at last Mikodez summoned him, Istradez was taking out his frustrations on a horrible knitted stole. Istradez did not share his brother's fondness for knitting, but he forced himself to keep in practice as a matter of professionalism. Unfortunately, he managed to drop not one but three stitches at the sound of the summons. To add insult to injury, one of the needles practically leaped out of his hand.

Istradez kicked the offending one-third of a stole under his desk. "Yes?" he said to the grid.

"The hexarch wishes to brief you," the grid intoned. "Please report to the main office."

Istradez grumbled to himself. The grid changed its mind every other day as to which of Mikodez's offices was the "main office." He had a pretty good guess, but it still irritated him. "Tell the hexarch I'm on my way," he said. He straightened his uniform before setting out.

As always, Istradez was acutely aware of the looks that people gave him. The senior staff knew that Mikodez had doubles, but they couldn't always tell the doubles apart. Which was, of course, the whole point of the system. Given Mikodez's reputation for deadly whimsy--no one _ever_ forgot about the Shuos cadets he had offed--even his staff tread lightly around him. And everyone knew that Mikodez and Istradez, in particular, liked to switch places, not just to test people's alertness, but out of sheer caprice.

Sometimes the nervous looks pleased Istradez. Today they only irritated him. He smiled too brightly at one administrator as she hurried past, and felt a savage stab of glee at the way she blanched and lowered her eyes.

At last he reached the correct office, which was the one with the fox paintings. Never let it be said that the Shuos avoided clichés. "Hexarch," Istradez said, "your double's reporting for duty."

The door swished open. Istradez sauntered in, glancing around for some clue as to Mikodez's mood. The cabinets full of craft supplies had closed drawers. Even the yarn stash looked like it had been tidied recently. That was definitely a bad sign.

As for Mikodez himself, he sat straight-backed behind his immense desk, his expression smooth, his smile courteous and completely unrevealing. That was an even worse sign.

Istradez took a seat uninvited; he never waited for permission when it was just the two of them. "All right," he said once the door had shut behind him, "what's the emergency _this_ time?"

"The Nirai hexarch has demanded my physical presence to discuss certain sensitive matters," Mikodez said. "The real hexarch, that is. He seems to think that something can be accomplished by holing up together and plotting against our comrades."

Istradez suppressed a shiver. No matter how often he dealt with his brother's "colleagues"--the other hexarchs--he would never feel fully comfortable around them. If caught impersonating Mikodez, he had no choice but to plead that he was following his brother's orders. And even then Mikodez could hang him out to dry without suffering anything in the way of repercussions.

"So you're sending me instead?" Istradez said. At the moment he didn't exactly mind the idea. He'd been holed up on the Citadel of Eyes for a couple months now, and he could use a change in scenery. Specifically, he could use a break from Mikodez's suffocating presence, try to get some perspective.

Mikodez frowned at him. "You've never met Nirai Kujen," he said. Istradez had read up on the man, of course. Part of the job, the way everything was.

Mikodez was still speaking. "He's dangerous. Very dangerous. I need you to keep him distracted. And figure out what the hell he's up to, if you can. It might not be possible, if it's some science project. But if you can untangle anything about his motives, his past--that could be useful."

"Relax, Miki," Istradez said. "When have I ever failed you?"

"When indeed," Mikodez echoed. "I could send one of the others." There were two other doubles at the moment.

"No," Istradez said. "I'll do it." He smiled impersonally even as he silently begged his brother to say _No, stay, I want you all to myself, don't ever leave me._

Mikodez said none of these things. Instead he nodded once, curtly. Hexarch, not lover. "Very good," he said. "This is what you need to know about the mission..."

## 3

Istradez had spent nearly the entire journey to the Nirai hexarch's home station under sedation lock. Apparently Kujen had insisted on it. Istradez didn't like it, but ultimately it didn't matter. He knew that Mikodez wouldn't let him go into danger without some form of backup. Presumably Mikodez and his analysts knew where Kujen's home station actually was, and could send shadowmoths to rescue Istradez if the shit really hit the fan.

He was entertaining himself by stabbing cookies when the moth commander messaged him. "Shuos-zho," the woman said with exaggerated respect, "I don't know if you've noticed, but we've docked. The station's waiting for you."

Ah, yes. The moth's crew had been calling him "Shuos-zho" in the old, formal mode. He disliked the honorific because of how antiquated it sounded, but Mikodez would have allowed it so he was stuck. And anyway, Istradez supposed he'd have to use the -zho honorific when addressing this Kujen, mainly because of Kujen's extreme seniority.

"Tell them I'm coming," Istradez said, "as soon as I finish this one last cookie." He cut the connection, then stabbed a final cookie until nothing remained but crumbs. Fucked if he was going to _eat_ it if he didn't have to. Of course, with his luck, Nirai Kujen knew all about Mikodez's love of confections and was going to force Istradez to eat a panoply of cookies, pies, and candies.

The Shuos infantry who escorted Istradez off the transport moth and into the docking bay had professionally empty eyes and the hardened look of people for whom violence was a reflex. Though Istradez had found this creepy in the past, he was grateful for it today. _Someone_ ought to be ready for trouble.

At least the docking bay was full of comforting, recognizable sights, sounds, and smells, from the busy mechanics to the clattering of machines to the unpleasant reek of lubricant. Istradez wasn't a trained operative, precisely, but he had a certain amount of expertise in staying alive. While he didn't _think_ Kujen would invite him here for a very personal assassination, he couldn't rule it out entirely, either.

Six Nirai-seconded Kel awaited him, their faces calm and unquestioning. What Istradez noticed most about them was not their number, which was standard operating procedure, or the fact that they were Kel, which just made sense if you wanted combat specialists, but the fact that all six were men, and very handsome men at that. If Istradez hadn't already possessed his brother's excellent good looks, he would have felt _threatened_. _Stop that,_ he told himself crossly. He was vain, but not _that_ vain.

"Shuos-zho," the highest-ranking, a lieutenant, murmured deferentially.

Istradez smiled loftily, because his brother would have. "Lead on," he said.

He noted several things as he strode amid the six Kel. First, his augment was being cagey about giving him access to the station's current layout. Even if it was a perfectly understandable security measure, it made his shoulder blades twitchy. Second, the layout was changing from second to second. The Citadel of Eyes had variable layout, but it was usually more subtle than this. Kujen's home base wasn't remotely attempting to be subtle. The intent was undoubtedly to disorient Istradez, get him at a disadvantage.

At last they arrived at a pair of magnificent doors that looked as though they had been carved from black marble. Istradez was willing to bet that they were the real thing. The Kel stopped all at once, beautifully synchronized, and turned to face him. They bowed, still in unison. It was all so insufferably _Kel_.

Istradez made himself smile again. "I'm ready," he said.

The doors swung open. "Come in," a deep, velvety voice said from within.

Istradez entered, showing no sign of deference, and why should he? He was here as _Hexarch Shuos Mikodez_ , the will of the Shuos. It might be an illusion--but it was an illusion he intended to employ to the fullest.

The room was just as sumptuous as the doors, with a floor and walls of the same black marble leading up to a dais upon which a couch of gray velvet rested. Significantly, the room was hexagonal in shape. A chill breathed down Istradez's spine: there was a high chance that the place was used for summoning exotic effects, so he would have to be on guard. Objets d'art were scattered artistically about the room in display cases lit by sinuous candlevines.

But most significantly, Istradez's eyes were drawn to the man who sat in the couch. He had dark, wavy hair with not a strand out of place, and a perfectly proportioned body sheathed in an equally perfectly tailored suit of dark gray velvet trimmed with lace. The silver voidmoth crest of the Nirai was embroidered upon his jacket.

Istradez gazed at that perfect face with its alabaster skin and secretive smile, and cursed the way his cock was starting to stiffen. His brother, he knew, would have had no such reaction, even to a physical specimen as profoundly handsome as this one.

"You may approach," Nirai Kujen said, his voice even deeper than before.

Istradez affected Mikodez's unhurried gait, telling himself that he wasn't impressed. After all, the Citadel of Eyes had its own share of treasures. He shouldn't be cowed by a mere display of wealth--and yet.

"Sit," Kujen said.

There was nowhere to sit but the couch, unless you counted the floor. Istradez had no intention of sitting on the floor, even if it was the kind of thing that Mikodez might have done in a spirit of whimsy. He did prefer to uphold a certain image of dignity, even if his fucking brother was happy enough with the way people regarded him as five parts frivolity to one part lethal intent.

So Istradez made his way to the couch, and sat at a decorous distance from Kujen. Kujen's mouth quirked, but he didn't remark on it.

"What was so urgent," Istradez said, copying his brother's habitual inflections with ease, "that you had to summon me all the way here? I have a job too, you know."

"I think you will find this worth your while," Kujen murmured. "But it's true that you have, indeed, come a long way. Refreshments?"

Unfortunately for Istradez, Mikodez's love of sweets was public knowledge. Or public enough, anyway. "I'd be delighted," he lied. While he would, indeed, have welcomed tea or wine, he suspected that he was going to be treated to something saccharine. It wouldn't be the first time.

Kujen smiled. "Splendid." He gestured idly, and a hidden door swooshed open to admit an identical pair of brown-haired men, also both handsome, although not as breathtaking as Kujen himself. Their eyes were so blue that the color had to be a mod. One man bore a tray of drinks, the other a tray containing a platter of pastries.

Istradez raised his eyebrows, genuinely amused, even though he knew he shouldn't get distracted by inconsequentialities.

"They're Esfarels," Kujen said dismissively. "I keep a number of them around as servants. You're welcome to the use of them if you need entertainment of any sort."

The knowing look in Kujen's eyes when he said _entertainment_ told Istradez exactly what the "Esfarels" were used for. He hid a grimace. He'd been fully briefed on Kujen's predilections, particularly his love of both psych surgery and beautiful pets. Well, he wasn't here to get in a quarrel with the Nirai hexarch. He'd report any obvious abuse to Mikodez, of course, but he didn't expect that he could do anything for the pets.

The Esfarels set down the platters on a low table resting near the couch. They bent their heads before Kujen, their large, liquid eyes beseeching. Kujen smiled at them and stroked one Esfarel's shoulder, then the other's. "Go," he said. They went, graceful and silent.

To cover his discomfiture, Istradez reached for a pastry. He didn't _want_ to eat a damned pastry, especially since what he felt could best be described as an understated form of nausea, but it wouldn't do to break character. So he took a bite. "Poppyseed filling?" he said, seeking to distract Kujen, and himself, from the matter of Esfarels, even with such a mundane topic.

"Why," Kujen murmured, "are you worried that I'll poison you?"

Well, since Kujen had brought it up--"The thought had occurred to me," Istradez admitted. While the Citadel of Eyes had provided him with the most up-to-date immunodefenses available, he wasn't under any illusions that they would stand up to a dedicated assassination attempt. Especially when his host was the leader of the Nirai. Which was why Istradez was here, as the _expendable_ one, and not Mikodez himself.

Kujen chuckled lowly. "It would be trivial for me to do so, yes," he said, "but rest assured that I have no such intentions."

This wasn't the same as being _safe_ , of course, even if Kujen were telling the truth--a big if. In spite of himself, however, Istradez believed Kujen. Among other things, he didn't think Kujen was the type of man to move against a "hexarch" without a specific goal. And everything Istradez had read in the briefing materials indicated that Kujen was especially not the sort to resort to assassination _in person_ , in a way that would leave him open to counterattack. No; if he'd intended any such thing, he would have hired some untraceable mercenary for the job, rather than inviting Mikodez to attend upon him personally.

"In that case," Istradez said, "I believe I shall avail myself of your hospitality." He reached for the nearer glass of wine and drank deeply. It was a pleasantly dry vintage, with curious notes of oak and caramel. Not his usual taste, but since it was what was on offer he might as well take advantage of it. Besides, he had a strong head for liquor. A single glass wouldn't affect his faculties unduly.

Kujen followed suit. "You are no doubt wondering," he said after Istradez had leaned back, "why you are here."

Istradez inclined his head. "You'd said this was a matter of some urgency," he remarked. "Surely it can't be as urgent as all that, if we're having snacks?"

Kujen's teeth flashed as he smiled again, more widely. "It's not _that_ kind of urgency, but I think you'll find it's very relevant to your interests." He reached out, beautifully poised, and stroked the angles of Istradez's jaw. His eyes met Istradez's, and held his gaze, frank in their appreciation.

Istradez held still. A dizzying flush heated his cheeks, to say nothing of his increasing arousal. "Was there an aphrodisiac in that wine?" he demanded, struggling to sound caustic rather than flustered.

 _Don't panic yet,_ he told himself. This was exactly the crude sort of game that a psych surgeon--a _bored_ psych surgeon--might play at. Even if he couldn't help but wonder that Kujen was resorting to such obvious methods. After all, even Mikodez was susceptible to the usual drugs; Istradez of all people ought to know.

For an answer, Kujen leaned in, grabbed Istradez's hair, and kissed him. The kiss was savage, and Istradez tasted blood in his mouth. He did, at least, have enough self-control not to close his eyes, not to go limp at the promise of pleasure. Mikodez was counting on him to keep his head.

Even so, he couldn't help but marvel at Kujen's eyes. This close, it was impossible not to notice the gorgeous amber flecks in their depths, the long, almost feminine sweep of those lashes.

When Kujen eased up, Istradez began to say, "If this is _all_ \--"

"You don't need to pretend with _me_ , Istradez," Kujen cut in.

The sound of his name being spoken by that velvety voice caused Istradez to still with shock. _He knows. I need to get out of here._

His attempt to get up, to walk in a dignified fashion, or even to run in an _un_ dignified one, failed utterly. His limbs wouldn't obey him, and he sank back, head swimming, a sudden fever sweeping through his body. _What--?_

But he knew. Kujen had betrayed him after all. And he was going to die here after all, without even a chance to say goodbye to his brother.

Kujen shoved Istradez down, smiling. It was odd how Istradez could focus on the treacherous beauty of that smile even as his mind filled with fog. "It wasn't _poison_ ," Kujen said kindly. "I have no intent of harming you, my dear. But"--and his smile broadened--"I said nothing about nanites."

 _Nanites?_ Istradez thought, too baffled to think clearly. And then the world went dark.

## 4

Istradez woke an indeterminate time later--a terrifying prospect in a world where _always knowing the time_ was a necessity of life. He felt lightheaded and _still_ feverish, not entirely unpleasantly. In particular, his groin ached pleasantly.

Then he remembered what Kujen had said. He attempted to sit up, only to discover that restraints held his limbs fast. Besides that, he was completely naked, his dark skin exposed to every chance current of air. In spite of that, his ridiculous cock was hard, and naturally he couldn't do a thing about it. Face it, if Kujen knew he _wasn't_ Mikodez, there was also no point in denying himself simple sexual pleasures.

He looked around despite the strain in his neck. Kujen had left him in the hexagonal room, except now he was on his back in its center. Even more, he was resting on a dais that must have been hidden in the floor, like some kind of absurd sacrificial victim from one of those dramas about heretics. There was no trace of his clothes.

"Ah, you've come to, I see," Kujen's voice came from behind him.

"Go to hell," Istradez said pleasantly.

"Nonsense," Kujen said. "I'm about to give you what you've always wanted."

Istradez scoffed. "And what's that?"

Instead of answering, Kujen came to stand over him. He curled his fingers in Istradez's hair, combing it with his fingers. His expression as he looked down into Istradez's face was frankly possessive. "Such a waste," Kujen said, almost in a sigh. "Your hexarch has no idea what he's throwing away."

"You could always send me back," Istradez said, torn between desperation and morbid curiosity. Just what _did_ Kujen intend to do with him?

"I could," Kujen said, not really agreeing. "I could send you back to endless missions, which you'd carry out dutifully. And you'd go back to the Citadel of Eyes every time into the arms of your brother, and he would kiss you dutifully, and maybe if you're lucky he'd fuck you too, with the help of drugs. And then he'd make his excuses because fucking is just so much _trouble_ and his heart's not in it, and he'd rather play video games or juggle assassins or bake pies, anything but touch you the way you deserve to be touched."

Istradez found himself thrashing against the restraints, trying to _get out_ , to _lunge_ at Kujen and make him _shut up_.

"Hit a nerve, did I?" Kujen said. He was standing just out of reach, _exactly_ out of reach, distance no doubt calculated to the half-inch.

"It's not like that," Istradez said through gritted teeth.

Kujen didn't respond to that, not in words. Instead, he vaulted up onto the dais, fluid in motion, and straddled Istradez. With expert fingers he undid Istradez's fly.

Istradez's breath escaped him in a hiss when Kujen's fingers closed around his rigid cock. " _Stop it,_ " he said. It came out half a moan.

"I don't think 'stop' is what you really mean," Kujen said, lightly mocking. He stroked Istradez with an expert touch, running his thumb around the crown of Istradez's cock, then drawing his hand down to cup Istradez's balls.

Istradez glared at him despite the pounding of his heart, the urge to _thrust_ into that grip and rut like a beast. "For someone who's supposedly so smart," he said, "you've miscalculated rather badly. If you think you're going to get to my brother through this somehow, you're mistaken. He'll just write me off in that ledger he keeps in his head and move on to the next body double."

Kujen shook his head. "Is that what you think this is about? Poor puppy." He licked his lips, looking down at Istradez's dick.

Istradez tried not to think about that perfect mouth closing around his shaft. Not that it did him much good. For the next thing Kujen did was lean down and take Istradez into his mouth.

Istradez's control, especially when combined with the strange sense of fever, couldn't endure this. He groaned as Kujen lapped at the underside of his shaft with his expert tongue, ridged teeth pressing ever so lightly against his overheated skin. Still, he cursed himself for his weakness, and bit the inside of his mouth to keep from making further sounds.

Just when he thought he could suppress any further outbursts without continuing to bite down, Kujen began slurping and sucking in earnest. There was nothing dignified in it. It was sheer noisy _lust_.

"Your dick," Kujen was gasping as he came up periodically for air, "I can taste the salt of your precome, and your dick's so _hard_ , I love taking it all in--"

Istradez couldn't help himself. He moaned and writhed as though he was in heat. Mikodez had never taken him like this. Oh, he'd sucked Istradez off on occasion, when he was in a good mood. But he'd never shown any _enthusiasm_ for the act, just checked it off like it was one more item on a to-do list. Not like he _wanted_ it, not like he thought Istradez was _hot_ , despite their mutual good looks.

Suddenly he was pistoning in and out of Kujen's hot, slick mouth, savoring every thrust, and honestly shocked at the harsh noises that--that couldn't be _him_. He wanted to grab Kujen by the hair and force him down, _down_ , but his arms were still shackled at the wrists. He grunted in frustration.

Kujen reared up, triumphant. "Yes, like that," he hissed. "This is what you want, isn't it? What you _deserve_."

Istradez didn't question the strange emphasis that Kujen gave the word. He canted his hips, demanding more attention for his dick. Kujen was only too happy to oblige. He leaned down and took it all the way down his throat this time, without even gagging. Istradez could tell that his dick was so far down, in fact, that there was no way that Kujen could breathe. For his part, Kujen's eyes were half-lidded in pleasure, his chest moving convulsively with the suppressed need to breathe.

The sight pushed Istradez over the edge. With a shout, he began coming down Kujen's throat. Kujen swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed again; detached himself, gasping and wheezing for air, with Istradez's jizz dribbling down his chin and onto his perfectly tailored clothes.

Kujen leaned down again, this time to kiss Istradez. Istradez tasted his own come and felt both faint and very, very pleased with himself, lapsing into a dangerous post-coital bliss. He needed to stop thinking with his damn dick and _think_ , but thinking was so very difficult.

When Istradez's breathing had slowed to a normal rate and his cock had softened, Kujen murmured a command. The restraints snicked free. Istradez sat up slowly. The sense of fever had, if anything, increased, even though he'd just come. For some reason he'd expected the sex to make the sensation go away.

Kujen smiled at Istradez, still with that possessive air. "You're coming along nicely," he said. "Stand up."

Istradez grumbled in protest, but stood up when Kujen prodded him in the ribs. Kujen led him to one of the cabinets, which opened to reveal a mirror. "There," Kujen said, sounding satisfied.

Istradez shook his head in annoyance. He was intimately familiar with his own appearance, especially when he spent so much time around Mikodez. They were identical, after all, made to be more identical even than twins--all except that minor matter of Mikodez's lack of interest in fucking.

Then he looked more closely. Something had changed. Several things, in fact.

For one, his eyes were just slightly lighter than they had been, although they were still brown, and they had developed several amber flecks. For another, his bones ached weirdly, and he was convinced that he'd grown a couple inches in height. Looking sideways at Kujen confirmed this. According to the records that Mikodez had shown him, Kujen was slightly taller than Mikodez and Istradez were. Except now Kujen and Istradez were of a height.

Most noticeably, his skin had gone several shades lighter, from its usual dark brown to more of a nut-brown shade. And his body's physique had changed, too. Originally Istradez had shared Mikodez's slender build. Now he'd gained some breadth in the shoulders, and the chest as well, while retaining his narrow hips.

"What the _hell_ are you doing to me?" Istradez demanded, grabbing Kujen's arm.

Kujen twisted out of Istradez's grasp with surprising nimbleness. "You can thank me later," he said as he drew a syringe out of the soiled jacket and stabbed Istradez in the arm. "You should rest. I'll leave an Esfarel in here to attend to you."

Istradez's body betrayed him yet again as he slumped to his knees, suddenly unable to stand, and darkness set in.

## 5

This time when Istradez woke, it was to the touch of a smiling man, although at least he didn't seem to be restrained this time. He blinked blearily, not recognizing him at first. The man had wavy brown hair and large, almost kittenish blue eyes.

 _Oh._ "Esfarel?" Istradez said. He cleared his throat, wondering why his voice sounded just a touch too deep. He tried again: "Esfarel?"

Esfarel gazed at him adoringly. "Do you want to fuck?"

Istradez pushed the other man away. "Not right now." He was more interested in inventorying the situation. The dais that he'd originally been on had been transformed into a bed wide enough for three--he tried not to think about that.

Esfarel followed Istradez around as he paced around the hexagonal chamber. One door opened to a full bathroom. A quick peek revealed that it was stocked with a full complement of silver jewelry and cosmetics. Another door opened to a staggeringly large closet--"closet" wasn't even the proper word for it, considering that it looked to be twice as large as the chamber, and full of sumptuous clothes in every form of silk, lace, and velvet known to the world, to say nothing of all the shoes. The third door opened to a dining room for two, which was set with a repast of roast chicken and dumplings. To Istradez's guilty relief, there wasn't a single pastry in sight.

Presumably one more door led _out_ , the one by which he'd entered, but naturally it wouldn't open for him. Istradez considered battering at it with his fists anyway, but refrained on the grounds that he didn't want the bruises. Especially since they would show distressingly well on his lighter skin.

He glanced down at his body. Yes, there was no mistaking it: his skin was an even lighter brown than it had been when Kujen had put him under. Curious, but he'd worry about it later. Some side effect of whatever experiment Kujen was running with the nanites, no doubt.

"Does your hexarch ever use _you_ as an experimental subject?" Istradez asked Esfarel.

Esfarel appeared to give the question a moment's thought. "He likes to fuck me," Esfarel offered.

So much for that.

"Do you want to fuck me?" Esfarel said earnestly. "I'm good at fucking."

This had the potential to become very tiresome in short order. "Let's eat," Istradez suggested, feeling bad for the man. It wasn't his fault that, whoever he'd once been, he was now a single-minded sex pet.

The next several hours established a few things. First, while there wasn't any obvious additional egress in the dining room, food replenished itself when they exited it and closed the door. Istradez found this reassuring. Kujen might have nasty plans for him, but they apparently didn't involve _starving_ him to death.

Second, Esfarel was just as single-minded about sex as Istradez's first impressions had suggested. He supposed that, in a certain warped fashion, Kujen was trying to be a good host. The thought depressed him.

Third, Istradez tried to deny it at first, but Esfarel's offers of fucking became increasingly tempting. He wasn't sure what it was about Esfarel. The man wasn't even his type. While Istradez had a healthy libido, he'd always preferred clever, quick-witted courtesans on the occasions that he couldn't get Mikodez to sleep with him--and the one he wanted most of all was Mikodez himself, present yet paradoxically unattainable.

Istradez had shrugged on the first bathrobe that he could locate in the enormous closet, and it was doing nothing to disguise his raging erection. He couldn't seem to quit thinking about Esfarel's wide blue eyes or his soft-looking mouth, or staring at Esfarel's tight ass, for that matter. He was tempted to go into the bathroom and jerk himself off just to get some relief.

 _Screw this,_ Istradez decided. "Stay out there," he told a disappointed Esfarel, and vanished into the bathroom.

Once in there, he dropped the bathroom and gripped his hard-on. He closed his eyes, moaning shamelessly as he stroked and caressed his thick cock. He couldn't believe how exquisitely sensitive it was. Surely it was just pent-up sexual frustration?

"Please," he heard Esfarel whimpering from the other side of the bathroom door. "Let me service you and your big dick."

Esfarel's words and the need in his voice sent a surge of blood straight to Istradez's cock. He hadn't thought it was possible to be this hard or--thick? He opened his eyes and stared down in wonder at his prick.

Istradez was intimately familiar with his--Mikodez's--dick. He knew exactly how long it was, exactly how thick it was, the placement of every vein, the mushroom shape of the head.

And thus he knew, _knew_ , that his dick had changed. It had grown at least an inch longer, and not just that--it had grown in girth as well. He reached down and hefted his balls, which confirmed the other change: his testicles had grown correspondingly. A rush of absurd masculine pride went through him as he contemplated this, even though he would have made fun of it once upon a time, in his former lifetime as Mikodez's sister.

Before he could stop himself, he heard himself calling out, "Come in and suck it."

"Of course," Esfarel said breathily, opening the door before Istradez could be overcome by second thoughts. His gaze went straight to Istradez's erection. Under other circumstances, Istradez would have been embarrassed by the man's worshipful expression.

Before Esfarel could go to his knees, Istradez growled, "Take your clothes off." All of a sudden he wanted to see Kujen's pet naked.

Esfarel complied only too eagerly, stripping off each article of clothing with exaggerated care for Istradez's viewing pleasure. Istradez masturbated openly while he watched. He couldn't believe he was doing this--and yet here he was, panting at the thought of using one of Kujen's pets.

 _He's begging for it,_ Istradez told himself, despite knowing it was a rationalization. _All he's done since I woke up in here is ask me to fuck him._

Before his conscience could prod him any further, Istradez beckoned for Esfarel to begin. Esfarel knelt and took Istradez's ready cock in his mouth, sucking just as enthusiastically as Kujen had earlier, if not more so.

Istradez looked down at the man pleasuring his dick. For a time he stood there savoring the blowjob, enjoying the way Esfarel tongued his piss slit and ran his strong masculine hands against Istradez's muscled inner thighs. Pressure built and built in his balls, and he was getting inexorably closer to coming down Esfarel's throat--

"Stop," Istradez said hoarsely.

Esfarel whimpered, but complied.

"I want your ass," Istradez said.

He didn't have to ask twice. Esfarel went to his hands and knees, ass facing Istradez. It hadn't been visible from the front, of course, but it turned out that Esfarel had a tattoo on his left ass cheek, that of an elaborate black-and-silver moth. Istradez bet that all the Esfarels were so marked.

Istradez had spotted lube in the bathroom when he was going through its contents earlier. He retrieved the tube now and squirted some into his hand. Trembling with desire, he inserted one slick finger into Esfarel's asshole. Esfarel moaned and wriggled. Istradez couldn't resist sliding in a second finger and pushing them both in and out several times, making sure Esfarel was ready for him.

"Please," Esfarel panted. "Take me now! I need your big dick in me. I need it so bad. I want dick!"

Istradez wondered briefly why Kujen seemed to prefer single-minded whores for pets. His brother's analysts had speculated that Kujen didn't like competition and felt threatened by intellectual rivals. But there was feeling threatened, and there was _this_. Couldn't Kujen have settled for merely ordinary intelligence instead of, well, unable to think about anything but sex? Bedroom talk was one thing, but all the available evidence suggested that Esfarel was like this _all the time_.

Then again, who was Istradez to judge? He had to admit that he was getting off on Esfarel's behavior himself. Something he was never, ever going to admit to his brilliant brother.

For perhaps the first time since Istradez had become a man, thinking about his brother caused his erection to flag. He shook his head. Time enough to think about that later, especially when he had a willing pet to fuck. He squeezed Esfarel's tattooed ass cheek and was rewarded by Esfarel's shameless moaning.

Istradez withdrew his fingers and shoved his cock in all the way on the first thrust. Ordinarily he was gentler to his lovers, but for some reason he couldn't seem to rein in his urges. He _needed_ to get off, _needed_ to conquer this submissive little pet with his massive cock.

Esfarel screamed in wordless pleasure. Encouraged, Istradez pulled out halfway, then rammed himself back into Esfarel's tight hole. This time his balls slapped against Esfarel's ass.

"Is this what you wanted so badly?" Istradez demanded. When Esfarel was slow to answer, he slapped the man on the ass to get his attention. The loud smacking sound was incredibly satisfying, and he did it again.

"No--no--" Esfarel gasped.

"After all that begging, you didn't want to get fucked after all?" Istradez said, incredulous.

"No--bigger--" Esfarel corkscrewed his ass back onto Istradez's iron-hard shaft, as if he was trying to get himself fucked even deeper. "I need it in me, need it all, need it even _bigger_ \--"

That was all Istradez could take. He'd never been hung up on dick size before, but right now imagining his dick growing-- _expanding_ \--aroused him beyond bearing. He slammed in and out of Esfarel's back door, driving him sprawling onto the floor with his ass sticking up.

Whether it was his imagination, or Esfarel's constant stream of dirty talk, Istradez thought about his dick getting thicker. Was he imagining things, or was Esfarel's hole getting tighter? _No._ He was positive that his cock was growing bigger, making Esfarel's back door a tighter fit. Making Istradez himself more of a man, with a man's need to _fuck fuck fuck--_

With a bellow, Istradez spurted come into Esfarel, until it came dribbling out between the man's ass cheeks and dripping to the floor in a messy, sticky puddle. Breathing hard, he collapsed atop Esfarel. Esfarel made a soft breathy appreciative sound.

When he'd regained his breath, Istradez pulled out of Esfarel and stepped into the shower to clean up. He wondered if Esfarel would join him, but Esfarel seemed to be content to recover lying on the floor in a heap.

As the hot water rained down and steam rose around him, Istradez lathered up his hair and washed it clean, then reached for the soap. He luxuriated in his own touch and the sybaritic rose scent of the soap, turning this way and that to admire his own body. He loved his milky pale skin, the perfectly proportioned body and its lean musculature, the immense oversized cock with the equally oversized balls. He couldn't imagine why he'd thought his dick had been so _ordinary_ before.

He left the shower running and toweled himself off. Esfarel smiled brightly at him and entered the shower after him.

Istradez headed into the closet to grab a change of clothes, since the bathrobe was soiled. He should have picked something out earlier, careless of him, but he could rectify the matter now. Rows upon rows of clothes awaited him, and he knew he would look gorgeous no matter which outfit he chose.

After some consideration, he selected a gray silk shirt with ruffles, a damask vest, a heavier jacket that showed off his shoulders and trim waist to best advantage, trousers that emphasized his tight, perfect ass, and silver-buckled shoes to match. Thus attired, he headed back into the bathroom, where Esfarel was still showering.

This time Istradez took a serious look at the makeup available. First he outlined his eyes in black, and then he added eye shadow in silver with a touch of pearly lavender. He inspected himself in the mirror critically. His complexion was as flawless as it always had been, but he wanted to add some lip gloss. He picked a rose-scented gloss with a touch of violet and applied it. As a finishing touch, he selected a silver necklace adorned with diamonds and pearls.

A flash of memory threatened--he frowned. It told him that he had once worn jewelry in gold, with rubies. Not silver. He dismissed the thought.

"Are you done yet, Esfarel?" he asked.

"Almost," Esfarel said. "More fucking?"

Istradez smiled, looking down at the bulge forming at his crotch. He'd just gotten dressed--but then, what else was Esfarel for? "More fucking," he agreed, amused.

## 6

When Kujen checked in on him an eternity of fucking later, Istradez was sprawled across the bed with his latest outfit in disarray--this one in priceless satin--and Esfarel's head bent over his crotch, noisily sucking his dick. Istradez didn't notice at first. He was distracted by a new, incongruous sensation, although not an entirely unpleasant one. His asshole felt...slick. Damp. He had a vague memory that it felt the same way when his pussy had gotten wet thinking of Mikodez, a lifetime ago. It didn't make _sense_ that he'd ever had a pussy, but the strange thought persisted nonetheless.

Kujen's eyes with their amber flecks had gone curiously bright. "How are you doing, my dear?" he said.

Esfarel didn't answer, occupied as he was slurping and tonguing. Istradez assumed he was the one being addressed, and looked languidly at Kujen. "He's an excellent Esfarel," he said in a voice just as deep as Kujen's--identical in every way, in fact.

"Of course he is," Kujen said with an indulgent chuckle. "All Esfarels are good at the things they're trained for. Esfarel, stop."

Esfarel, responding to the note of command in Kujen's voice, withdrew, making soft whining noises at having to stop.

Istradez stared up at Kujen, and his breath caught. That perfect face, those long-lashed eyes, the beautifully proportioned body. All identical to the body he had-- _now?_ Again he felt his asshole responding to Kujen's raw sensuality.

"What do you see?" Kujen asked in a purr.

"Me," Istradez breathed, reaching down to stroke his throbbing cock. "I see myself. I _want_ you."

"Of course you do," Kujen said, smiling. He joined Istradez on the bed and nudged Esfarel aside with his elbow. Esfarel sighed but nuzzled his arm and complied.

"Take your clothes off," Kujen added to Istradez. "All of them."

Istradez was only too happy to oblige. He arched his back, threw his neck back, _willing_ Kujen to see and appreciate every inch of his body, especially the way his eager dick protruded from his groin. "Now you," Istradez said. Half-demand, half-plea.

Kujen's smile became avid. "Obedience deserves a reward," he said. He disrobed little by little, like a flower unfurling. His cock was just as hard as Istradez's, and just as big--exactly as big. "Turn over."

Istradez rolled over onto his chest and belly. A moment later, Kujen's prick rubbed against his ass crack, then paused at his rear entrance. Istradez felt the slickness trickling down between his legs. "What--?" he gasped.

"A minor modification," Kujen said, patting Istradez's firm ass. "I plan on fucking you three times a day for the rest of your life, so I thought it'd save us both some time if you were self-lubricating."

Before Istradez had time to digest the implications of this statement, Kujen's enormous dick began shoving into his hole. Istradez was shocked at the needy little noises that escaped from his mouth. He _liked_ being filled by a big dick. And not just anyone's dick--but Kujen's dick, the one that looked exactly like his own.

As Kujen pumped his cock in and out, Istradez thought dreamily that he had achieved the perfect life. Kujen was the most beautiful imaginable man--and he, Istradez, was a perfect copy of Kujen. Even better, Kujen was fucking him and intended to keep fucking him. Because Kujen _wanted_ him--indeed, from the noises that Kujen was making, it sounded as though Kujen couldn't think of anything _but_ taking Istradez.

Besides the pleasure radiating from his slick asshole and the pressure on his prostate, Istradez enjoyed the way his nipples had hardened into sensitive nubs. As Kujen shoved him into the bed, the way the silken sheets rubbed against his nipples just turned him on more. Even when Istradez had plundered Esfarel's tight ass, Istradez's nipples hadn't reacted like this.

"You love your new dick, don't you?" Kujen said between thrusts.

It was the _your_ that made Istradez suddenly, intensely aware of how hard he was, how much he loved his perfect body, how much he was getting off on being a copy of Kujen. "Yes!" he cried. "I love having your dick! I love looking like you! Take me with that dick!"

"You're _perfect_ ," Kujen said, his voice hoarse. "I can't believe that bastard Mikodez didn't know what he had. His loss and my gain."

Istradez didn't want to talk about Mikodez, who wasn't important anymore. What was important was getting thoroughly fucked by this man who looked exactly like him, and taking full advantage of his body's astonishing capacity for pleasure. Because while he'd already come twice today ravishing Esfarel, he was sure he could manage to come yet again with Kujen's monster dick shoved up his ass. Probably another "minor modification." Istradez didn't really care how it had come about as long as it didn't go away.

Kujen lay against Istradez's back and reached down to tweak Istradez's hard nipples. Istradez gasped. "More!" he said. "Do that again, Kujen."

Kujen did, more aggressively.

This time Istradez felt--small lumps under his nipples. Erotically sensitive lumps. And it seemed like his nipples were _leaking_ ever so slightly. "K-Kujen?" he asked.

"It's all going according to plan," Kujen said. Then he didn't speak for a while, grunting as he thrust harder and harder, more and more rapidly. He was clearly approaching his climax. Istradez shoved his ass up toward Kujen's dick, making sure that Kujen bottomed out with each thrust.

At last Kujen shouted as he spurted immense quantities of come into Istradez's ass. Every time Istradez thought Kujen had to be done, that there couldn't be any more, Kujen's dick continued to spurt and throb. Istradez had what seemed to be a veritable flood of come leaking out of his hole. Stimulated beyond bearing by this, Istradez came next, jetting come onto the bed beneath him.

Sighing, Kujen pulled out with a pop and lay on his side next to Istradez. "Very good," he said, kissing Istradez on the mouth. "But we have to do it again, you know."

Istradez's cock stirred. He was ready whenever Kujen wanted him to be.

## 7

Kujen proved as good as his word. He fucked Istradez three times a day. Sometimes four or five. Istradez especially liked those days. As far as he was concerned, the more fucking, the better. Istradez's asshole became wet whenever Kujen entered the room, which did, in fact, come in handy. Even with the extra lubrication, he often found that Kujen's sheer size made him ache. That, however, was only more of a turn-on. He looked forward to the hours they spent tangled together.

Even so, Istradez's own lusts were not satisfied. Kujen left the hexagonal room unlocked now, but Istradez had lost all interest in leaving it and the three adjoining rooms. However, the Esfarels went in and out at will. Istradez couldn't tell them apart--they even dressed identically--and wouldn't have known there were more than two of them except for the time that four of them had come in at the same time to deal with the laundry. He had no idea how many Esfarels there were in total, and didn't care, as long as there was a steady supply of them. In any case, Istradez had learned that any Esfarel was available for fucking whenever he had a case of blue balls, and he made sure to take care of his needs at every opportunity.

Between sex and cleaning up after sex, Istradez spent his time dressing up in whatever outfits took his fancy and admiring himself in the mirror. Of course, admiring himself in the mirror usually led to jerking himself off if an Esfarel wasn't handy. Despite the special tailoring of his trousers to accommodate his enormous cock, he couldn't simply slip his hand into his pants to jack off; it worked best when he dropped his pants entirely to free his hard-on. Needless to say, he didn't bother wearing underwear. It would only have gotten in the way, especially considering that he spent comparatively little time fully clothed.

After one such session, which had begun with him gazing lustfully into his own amber-flecked eyes and wishing Kujen would show up so he could stop thinking about kissing the mirror, he showered, again, and explored the closet's contents again. One the items that took his fancy was a particularly elegant pair of slacks. He snatched it up along with a number of other clothes and began to dress. Shirt first, then slacks--

Then he frowned. The slacks wouldn't close at the waist. He flung them down in pique. And his shirt had formed two damp spots at his nipples--what was going on?

He took it off and looked, really looked, at his abdomen. Was he gaining weight? Not only had his formerly masculine pectorals gained slight curves, like small breasts, his belly had a slight bulge to it that hadn't been there before. No wonder his pants didn't fit, not when they were so precisely tailored.

Just then, he heard a knock at the door. "It's Kujen," came the familiar voice, _his_ voice as well as Kujen's voice.

Istradez didn't answer, although his asshole began to get damp in anticipation.

Kujen opened the door anyway. He inhaled sharply when he saw Istradez standing there naked, studying his body. "Come here," he said. When Istradez didn't move, Kujen grabbed Istradez's wrist and yanked him along.

Dazed, Istradez allowed himself to be led to the familiar mirror. Kujen moved him this way and that, smiling at whatever he saw. The breasts, the round belly. Then Kujen took out a small device and scanned Istradez with it.

"What is it?" Istradez demanded when Kujen's smile widened.

"Congratulations, my dear," Kujen said. "You're pregnant." His eyes were gleaming with triumph and lust. He grabbed Istradez's breast and groped it, causing a thin trickle of milk to drip from the nipple. "So perfect," he breathed. "Everything I've ever wanted. You'll take my dick up your ass and get pregnant and bear my children and feed them too. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever created."

Istradez knew he didn't have any more choices, not really. He met Kujen's eyes directly and licked his lips. "Suck me," he said. His breasts tingled, demanding stimulation. He loved the erotic sensations that were threatening to overwhelm his body.

Kujen pressed Istradez up against the wall next to the cabinet with the mirror. He bent his head and nuzzled Istradez's small cleavage. Istradez missed his old flat, masculine chest, the twin of Kujen's, but he knew he would need to produce milk for Kujen's children. Kujen's children, and his.

Kujen's mouth closed around Istradez's nipple. Istradez heard himself whimpering as Kujen suckled, as the milk flowed through his milk channels and into Kujen's greedy mouth. He had never realized that being milked would feel so good. His asshole began to leak at the same time.

After a time, Kujen switched to the other breast. By then, Istradez's legs were slick too, and his cock was fully hard. He couldn't wait for Kujen to fuck him again, even if he was already pregnant.

Istradez didn't have to wait long. Once Kujen had drunk his fill, he spun Istradez around. Istradez's nipples stiffened as they met the cold marble of the wall, continuing to drizzle milk.

Meanwhile, Kujen stuck his hard cock so deep inside Istradez that he wondered if he would ever be able to walk again. Of course, he wondered that every time, and he was still able to walk. But the raw power and lust with which Kujen fucked him was such a turn-on.

"My beauty," Kujen breathed into Istradez's ear. "My beauty. You're going to breed such handsome sons." His voice became wicked. "Only sons. I made sure of that. Sons to grow in my image, to serve as future anchors."

The prospect should have horrified Istradez, but instead he cried out, "Yes, yes!" He had a faint memory of how Kujen's immortality worked. Hadn't someone named Mikodez told him? He couldn't remember why. And anyway, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he would produce Kujen's sons, and when Kujen himself possessed one of those sons in a continuation of his unnatural life, Istradez expected that he would continue to service Kujen in that new body. And at that point, he hoped, Kujen would make the necessary changes-- _a minor modification_ \--so that Istradez once again resembled him in every detail but the small matter of breasts and pregnant belly.

Kujen had divined Istradez's train of thought. "You like that, don't you?" he said teasingly. "You want to fuck our children. Fuck our children as _me_."

He couldn't think about anything more but _fuck fuck fuck_ he needed it, needed Kujen to tell him what he wanted. "Yes!" he said again.

"You'll come with me," Kujen whispered, his voice ardent. "You'll be immortal too. We'll be our own dynasty, forever and ever." He thrust again for emphasis, moved his hands from their position on Istradez's hips to his newly pregnant belly. "Isn't that better than anything you could have imagined?"

"I'm yours," Istradez gasped, "I'll always be yours, I'm you, you're me, _we're together_ \--"

And with those words Kujen blasted Istradez's much-abused hole with spunk for a full minute, and Istradez himself lost control and jizzed all over the marble wall, milk continually leaking from his oversensitive nipples.

## 8

Istradez was now seven months pregnant, showing very visibly. He had taken to wearing looser, high-waisted robes meant to accommodate his changing body. Although he'd thought he would miss the sleekly tailored clothes that Kujen wore, he found that he liked flaunting his fertility. After all, Kujen's project couldn't really begin until Istradez started producing their children. Secretly, he was hoping for twins. It only seemed appropriate.

Kujen had entered the hexagonal room and requested that Istradez disrobe. Istradez had been happy enough to obey. He expected that they would get on with the fucking shortly.

"I have a minor bit of business to take care of first," Kujen said when Istradez looked inquiringly at him. "A call to make. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not," Istradez said, not really paying attention. He was instead admiring Kujen's ensemble, which included a frock coat gorgeously embellished with jewels. Kujen had left the coat unbuttoned, which Istradez appreciated, because it gave him an unobstructed view of the enormous tent in Kujen's pants.

Kujen pulled out a tablet and entered some commands. "Hexarch Nirai Kujen, calling Hexarch Shuos Mikodez as scheduled," he said in that rich velvet voice.

Mikodez's holographic image glowed before them. "Kujen," he said--and then his brow furrowed as he looked at Istradez. "I admit it, you caught me using a double, but--what on earth are you doing?"

"I thought you might like to say hello to the brother you sent me," Kujen purred. "Istradez?"

Istradez wasn't much interested in this Mikodez person, but he looked up at the holo, stroking his visibly pregnant belly. "Yes, Kujen?" he said. His nipples were erect, and his breasts had grown over the past months as they filled with more and more milk. Kujen milked him every time they had sex, which Istradez enjoyed more than he wanted to admit.

Beyond that, Istradez's immense cock was already hard as he thought about the fucking that awaited him after this tedious call. He couldn't wait to take Kujen's own cock up his ass, to feel himself dripping from his asshole. He was pretty sure that this Mikodez could see the slick juices running down his thighs.

"Very amusing, Kujen," Mikodez said at his driest.

"I assure you the results are genuine," Kujen said. "I'm sending you the videos now, documenting your brother's transformation. In all honesty, I have to thank you for giving me the idea in the first place." He smiled radiantly at Istradez and rested one of his hands on Istradez's belly as well. "He's going to make such an excellent breeder."

Mikodez's expression became shuttered. "Very clever of you," he said. "I suppose I would have been the victim of this experiment if I'd shown up instead?"

"Not in the slightest," Kujen said. He grabbed Istradez and kissed him passionately, squeezing Istradez's ass for good measure. " _You_ I have no interest in. You don't meet my...requirements. But your brother? Your brother was practically begging for this life. He'll be much happier with me than he ever was with you."

"Perhaps that's so," Mikodez said. For a second his eyes were dark and anguished; then even that expression disappeared. "He's failed in his mission, then, and I'm better off quit of him. Enjoy your acquisition, Kujen."

"I will," Kujen purred.

Mikodez hung up.

Istradez was glad that was over with. He gazed adoringly at Kujen. "Do you want to fuck?"

"Always," Kujen said. "Always."


End file.
